Becoming Your Voice
by kippersvindaloo
Summary: Lister and Rimmer are imprisoned on a space station, and Lister makes a choice that will affect them both
1. In the Cell

AN: This story takes place in the fourth series, and is slightly AU (though I suppose you could make that argument for any fanfic, couldn't you?). Thanks again to everyone who's given me feedback; it's always appreciated.

Disclaimer: None of these characters are mine, and I'm not making any money from this, so please don't sue me.

**Becoming Your Voice**

"I know it looks bad," Rimmer said to Lister as they sat in a cold, dark jail cell, "but we've been in worse scrapes than this and got out all right."

Lister pulled his coat tighter; he didn't look convinced. "Yeah? Like what?"

"Well, there was…" Rimmer stopped. No, that situation hadn't been too bad, actually. "What about the time-? No, maybe not. How about-? Well, that wasn't really worse, was it? All right, fine, we haven't been in worse scrapes, but we've been in scrapes at least this bad."

"That's very comforting, Rimmer," Lister said. "If I ever have to fight somebody, and it looks like it's going to be a rough match…"

Rimmer leaned in hopefully. "Yes?"

"Talk to the other guy before the fight," Lister said. "Five minutes with you and I think he'd give up."

"My talks would be perfectly inspirational if you had the right mindset," Rimmer said.

"Well, excuse me if I'm not spurred on to new heights by the thought of my own death," Lister said.

At times like these, Rimmer was glad he was already dead. "Come on, Listy! If you were a great military strategist, you'd be chomping at the bit right now!"

"Well, I'm a third technician, and I wanna go home," Lister said. "You're the one who plays all those war games. Do you have a plan?"

Rimmer took a deep breath, trying to bluff his way through a plan so Lister would be wrong. But Lister was right; Rimmer didn't have a workable plan. He didn't even have a bluffable plan.

"No," Rimmer said. "But look on the bright side. Maybe they're nice deranged service droids."

"Rimmer, nice deranged service droids wouldn't chase us into a jail wielding chainsaws and screaming 'Tapioca pudding!' over and over," Lister said.

"Then maybe they've forgotten we're here," Rimmer said.

"Great. So we can starve to death instead of being ripped apart," Lister said. Then something occurred to him. "Why don't you just walk through the walls? Get back to Red Dwarf, tell them I'm here, and form a rescue party."

"I have a little riddle for you, Lister," Rimmer said. "When I try to walk through walls, what part of me will bounce off the walls, discontinuing my program and, in effect, killing me?"

Lister's face clouded with disappointment. "Your light bee."

"My light bee," Rimmer said. "Exactly."

Lister sighed. "What are we gonna do?"

"I don't know," Rimmer said, shaking his head.

The door slid open, and a service droid entered, holding a weapon. "One of you will come with us."

"Why just one?" Lister asked uneasily.

"We must ensure your inseams are the same," the service droid said.

"Unfortunately, I'm afraid the Space Corps makes us follow the buddy system," Rimmer said. "We have to travel in pairs at all times. I'd love to go with you by myself, but…"

"ONE OF YOU WILL COME WITH US!" the service droid screeched, waving its weapon.

Rimmer was trying very hard not to panic. If he went first, maybe they wouldn't hurt Lister, and they couldn't hurt Rimmer. But if they figured out he was a hologram, it was only a matter of time before they found his light bee, and if they decided to smash it—

"I'll go," Lister said.

Rimmer stared at Lister, aghast. Duty said Rimmer was the superior officer, and a dead one besides, so he should protect any officer under him. Honor said that Rimmer should reciprocate Lister's noble action and volunteer to go first. But cowardice said that Rimmer should stay quiet and let Lister go first, and cowardice was always the loudest voice in Rimmer's head. So Rimmer did nothing.

Lister left the room without looking back.


	2. Lister and the Droids

"So what's the plan?" Lister asked as the service droid led him down the corridor. He should have been terrified, but Lister knew he was going to die now, and the knowledge made him feel oddly numb.

The droid did not answer. It simply led Lister to what had once been someone's quarters, strapping Lister to a chair by straps that fastened around his wrists and abdomen. Two other droids entered.

"Can't we talk this over?" Lister asked, glancing around the room. His eyes focused on the wires surrounding his chair; they were bare, and appeared to be live. The droids weren't incredibly in touch with reality, so they probably hadn't noticed the wires. If he could just trick the droids into touching the bare wires, the extra current should short them out. If he could just—

One of the service droids stepped forward, wielding a scalpel.

Lister swallowed hard. "What's that for?"

"It is necessary," the droid said, "so no one will hear you scream."

Then the droid jammed its arm down Lister's throat and slashed his vocal cords. Lister's instinctual reaction to the sudden agony was to scream, but no sound came out, and he gagged on the sudden spurt of blood in his throat. _This is it—you're going to die._

The three droids approached, closing in on Lister, and although his throat felt like it was on fire, Lister knew he had to act now. So he spat blood on the service droid directly in front of him.

The droid spun around in circles, emitting a high-pitched screech. His two droid companions attempted to clean him, which gave Lister just enough time to dislocate his thumb and free one hand from its restraints. Then he lunged for the bare wires with his free hand.

Two of the service droids moved to intercept Lister's hand and came in contact with the bare wires. Sparks flew, and Lister used the opportunity to pop his thumb into joint and free his other hand.

The two service droids seemed to be down, but the third one, the one with blood on it, was still functional.

_Almost. The plan almost worked._ Lister hurried to undo the strap around his middle. His lips moved, even though no voice came out and the resulting pain made Lister want to vomit. _Smeggin' hell._

The third service droid slashed its scalpel toward Lister, and Lister finished undoing the final strap, vaulting out of the chair. He glanced around the room for a weapon he could use to fight the droid, but all the weapons in the room were across the room from Lister.

_The fire extinguisher._

Lister turned, and behind him on the wall was a big, heavy fire extinguisher. He yanked it from the wall, hurling it with all his strength at the service droid. It made a satisfying crunch.

Lister didn't wait to see what happened after that. He had to find Rimmer and get the smeg out of here.


	3. The Great Escape

Rimmer wasn't generally the sort to feel guilty, but he was feeling distinctly anxious about Lister at the moment. _He did the right thing. He made the hero's gesture. He did the noble thing I always thought I might be capable of, and I did nothing, as usual._

The door to the cell slid open, but instead of a droid outside, it was Lister. Rimmer was relieved; if Lister was all right, Rimmer's fear was somehow justified because no one had been hurt by it.

"Lister! How did you get free? What happened?" Rimmer asked.

Lister didn't answer. He simply gestured for Rimmer to follow Lister back to Starbug.

"Right," Rimmer said, hushing his voice so he wouldn't be heard.

The trip through the halls of the deserted ship was a tense one. Rimmer turned around several times because he thought he heard someone breathing behind him. Still, he and Lister made it to Starbug and were soon flying safely away.

"I underestimated you, Lister," Rimmer said, shaking his head as he took the seat next to Lister at the controls. "What did you do to get away?"

Lister shook his head but didn't answer. Rimmer turned to look at Lister and noticed for the first time how sick Lister looked. "Are you all right?"

Lister shook his head, bending over and coughing. When he moved his hand away from his mouth, Rimmer was shocked to see blood.

"Oh my God," Rimmer said. "What did they do to you?"

Lister extended his pointer finger, gesturing to show it was supposed to represent a knife. Then he moved it in front of his throat.

Rimmer drew a sharp breath. "I'm sorry. Is there anything I can…?"

Lister shook his head no, turning back to the controls. Rimmer felt silly. Of course there was nothing he could do; he was a hologram.

"I'll put Starbug on autopilot if you need some rest," Rimmer said. He didn't like silence; it made him uncomfortable.

Lister nodded.

"Engage autopilot," Rimmer said, thankful for the chance to do something.

Holly took over the flight controls, and Lister settled back in his chair, closing his eyes.

There was no justice in the cosmos. Of course, Rimmer suspected there never had been, but this only confirmed it. Lister had been tortured, and he had still managed to save himself and Rimmer. If Rimmer had gone first, would he have been able to come up with a plan of escape?

But that wasn't really what was bothering Rimmer. It was that Lister had gone to what looked like certain death willingly, and with no qualms. He had volunteered, not because it looked good, but because it was right. Rimmer could have offered to go first too, but it wouldn't have been a genuine offer, and it certainly wouldn't have been selfless. Rimmer didn't have the capacity for that kind of act, and he knew it, but apparently Lister did. _And for his kindness, he's been hurt._

Lister's eyes flew open as he had another coughing fit. He bent forward, covering his mouth with both hands. Once the coughing subsided, Lister remained bent over. His shoulders began to shake.

_He's crying, _Rimmer realized with some shock.

Rimmer stood, hovering awkwardly near Lister. "Please don't. I…"

Lister swiveled his chair away from Rimmer so that Rimmer couldn't see his face. Rimmer mentally reproached himself. _Now isn't the time for a military school speech. He's hurt. Talk to him._

"Lister," Rimmer said, kneeling by Lister's chair. "I didn't mean that. I just hate seeing you like this and not being able to do anything." He paused. "I've never seen you cry. I don't know what to do. Tell me what to do."

Lister looked up, eyes sad and wet. He hit his throat angrily, showing that he couldn't speak and couldn't tell Rimmer anything. Then he covered his face, because hitting his throat had clearly hurt and he didn't want Rimmer to see him upset.

Rimmer winced. The King of Tact struck again. "I'm sorry."

Lister shook his head, sniffling a little and staring at the ground.

"We'll be back to the ship soon and Kryten can have a look at you. Okay?"

Lister nodded again.

Rimmer cleared his throat uncomfortably. "Look…I'm not very good at this sort of thing, and…I don't know how much use it will be to you, but…it has occurred to me that this might be a helpful response, and…" He pointed a threatening finger at Lister. "Don't ever tell anyone I did this."

Lister gave Rimmer a "what in smeg are you talking about?" look.

Rimmer crouched, moving his arms so that they barely touched Lister and at least appeared to be hugging him.

Lister remained still for a moment. Then he extended his arms, taking care not to pass them through Rimmer in his attempt to hug Rimmer back.


	4. Diagnosis

Kryten shone a light down Lister's throat. "Aha."

_Aha what?_ Lister wanted to ask, but he had no way of asking. He hated not being able to talk. There was no good way of getting around it. If he couldn't talk, he couldn't communicate with anyone.

_I should've tried something sooner, _Lister thought. _I should've noticed the wires before they strapped me down. Maybe that could've stopped them doing this._ But maybe not. Maybe, if Lister had taken a stand earlier, he would've died.

"Well, Mister Lister, your throat seems to be healing nicely," Kryten said.

Lister made an impatient gesture. _And?_

"You'd like to know when your voice will come back?" Kryten asked.

Lister nodded, grateful for yes or no questions.

"It's difficult to say, sir," Kryten said. "There's quite an extensive amount of damage to your vocal cords."

Lister couldn't help it; he tried to talk even though he knew it wouldn't make any sound. _But I will get it back?_

"I believe so," Kryten said, looking cheery. "It seems there will be a minimum of scarring, and that's always good news."

Lister nodded, feeling relieved. At least he wouldn't have to be silent for the rest of his life.


	5. A Second Opinion

Rimmer looked at Kryten as the mechanoid left the medical bay. "Well? How is he?" Rimmer wasn't accustomed to holding vigils—frankly, he wasn't used to caring—but he had to know how badly Lister was hurt.

Kryten shook his head. "It's a terrible mess, sir. He's been hacked to pieces in there."

"So his voice?" Rimmer asked.

"No, sir," Kryten said. "He'll never speak again."

Rimmer felt ill. "Does he know?"

"No," Kryten said. "I took the liberty of going into lie mode and softening the news for him. He still thinks he'll recover."

"How long will it take him to realize it?" Rimmer asked.

"One week. Maybe two." Kryten said. Then he tilted his head to one side, looking at Rimmer. "Are you ill, Mister Rimmer?"

Rimmer shook his head. "No. I've just got this horrible heavy feeling in my stomach."

Kryten did a quick analysis. "I believe the pertinent sensation is called guilt, sir."

Rimmer forced himself to laugh. "That's ridiculous. What could I possibly feel guilty about?"

"Perhaps it isn't guilt," Kryten said. "Perhaps it's sympathy for the permanence of Mister Lister's ailment."

"Sympathy? Please, Kryten. Stick to medical analysis of Lister. You've no idea what goes on in my head," Rimmer said, putting on his smug smile.

"Yes, sir," Kryten said, starting off down the corridor to resume his other duties.

Rimmer felt the false confidence go whooshing out of him the minute Kryten was gone. It was guilt, all right. Lister was injured permanently; he would never talk again because of Rimmer. Rimmer had never thought he could feel bad about anything that happened to Lister, but apparently, there were limits to apathy. _He'd had his throat cut all to hell and he still came back to collect me. He could've just run and left me. That's what I would've done._

Rimmer looked at the medical bay doors. Somehow that knowledge only made him feel worse.


	6. Being Quiet

Lister was beginning to get worried. It had been two weeks now, and although Kryten had told Lister he would get his voice back soon, Lister was still mute.

The worst part wasn't the silence. The worst part was how verbal everyone else was. Lister hadn't realized how much he depended on talking to the other Dwarfers for a social life. Now the other Dwarfers talked at him all the time.

Cat was the most insufferable. If you couldn't interrupt him, and Lister couldn't, he'd babble at you all day. Not that Lister minded babble, but Cat's babble was always about his favorite topic—himself. The message never varied either; Cat loved himself. He really, really loved himself. That was fine in small doses, but in twenty-four hour marathons, it threatened Lister's sanity.

Lister had expected to feel worse around Rimmer, given their usual constant bickering, but Rimmer had been oddly subdued ever since their escape. He kept beginning conversations and then cutting them off with apologies about Lister being unable to speak. Rimmer had apologized more in the past three days than he had in the rest of his life—at least, the part of his life Lister had seen. Why would he be so careful?

Lister felt suddenly anxious. What if they were hiding something from him? What if Rimmer knew something Lister didn't, like whether or not Lister would ever talk again?

_But Kryten said I would, _Lister thought, beginning to panic. Kryten was reliable; he wouldn't have…wouldn't have what? Lied? Kryten was all too able to lie now, thanks to Lister's training. What if Kryten had lied to spare Lister's feelings?

_Oh, smeg…_


	7. Learning the Truth

Rimmer was in the drive room when Lister came tearing in. He was holding a pad of paper and a pen, and he looked very worried.

"Lister, what is it?" Rimmer asked.

Lister held up the pad. **What's wrong with me?**

Rimmer felt uneasy. "What do you mean?

Lister scribbled on the pad and then held it up for Rimmer to read. **Is my voice coming back?**

Rimmer hated to be the one to explain. "Look, Lister, if you'll just…"

Lister stabbed the paper with his pen, demanding an answer.

Rimmer shook his head. "No. It isn't." He looked at Lister. "There was too much damage done."

Lister looked utterly lost. He turned away from Rimmer and banged the wall with his fist.

"Lister, if you're thinking of going to get drunk," Rimmer began, standing up.

Lister wrote a quick response to Rimmer and held up the pad. **Can't. Burns my throat.**

"Oh," Rimmer said. "Right." He balanced awkwardly on the balls of his feet. "Well."

Lister wrote another message on his pad. **Don't worry. You don't have to be nice to me. I'm going.**

"That's not necessary," Rimmer said, but he didn't bother saying any more because Lister was already gone. This was not a good sign.

Rimmer would have to do something.


	8. Volunteering

Lister was basically asleep with his eyes open when Rimmer came into the room.

"I think I have a solution to your problem," Rimmer said.

Lister's initial reaction was excitement, but he tried to quiet that feeling. This was Rimmer, after all. How likely was it that he would have an actual solution?

"I can act as your voice," Rimmer said.

Lister snorted. _Yeah, sure you can, guy. Go back to sleep._

"I'm serious," Rimmer said. "I took a lipreading course years ago so I could figure out what women were talking about when their friends rescued them from me in bars and took them across the room to confer. I admit I'm a little rusty, but…"

Lister shook his head. _He doesn't get it. I want to be able to talk. Me. For myself. I don't want to flap my lips and then wait for some self-absorbed smeghead to get half my words wrong in the translation._

"Lister, you have to let me do something or I'll run mad!" Rimmer blurted out.

Lister frowned. What was he talking about?

"I know it's my fault this happened," Rimmer said hesitantly. "If I'd gone with the droids instead of you, you'd still have your voice."

Lister crossed his eyes and made a choking face, pointing to himself and then to Rimmer. _If you'd gone, we'd both be dead._

"Maybe," Rimmer said. He stood still for a few minutes, thinking of what to say. "I've been trying to think of something I could do for days, and this is the only thing I have so far." He sighed. "Maybe I'm doing this for the wrong reasons—to make myself feel better instead of to help you. I don't know. I just thought I should volunteer."

Lister thought a moment. Then he mouthed a word to Rimmer. _Smeghead._

Rimmer, instead of erupting in spasms of abuse as he usually did, looked oddly thoughtful. Then he gave Lister the finger.

Lister was surprised enough to grin. _Maybe this could work after all._


	9. Testing the Interpreter

Kryten was cleaning up the remnants of Cat's breakfast when Rimmer and Lister entered.

"Morning," Rimmer said.

"Good morning, sirs," Kryten said.

"I know what you didn't want to tell me, Kryten," Rimmer said.

Kryten frowned in confusion. "What I didn't want to tell you?"

"About my voice," Rimmer said.

"Is there something wrong with your voice?" Kryten asked, turning to look at Rimmer. First Mr. Lister, now Mr. Rimmer. What would happen next? These things always seemed to come in threes. Kryten attempted to slow the functioning of his superstition chip.

"Not him, Kryten. Don't look at him," Rimmer said. "Look at me, Lister."

Kryten was close to panic. "You're Mister Lister? Then where is…?"

"Kryten, allow me to break character for a moment and explain, since apparently your cognitive circuits are the size of a sardine tin and half as functional," Rimmer said. "I'm Rimmer. That is Lister. Lister cannot speak, so I am translating by reading Lister's lips and repeating what he says. So when I'm talking, you may as well talk to Lister. Is that clear?"

"Certainly," Kryten said. "Why couldn't you have said that first?"

Rimmer looked at Lister, and Lister moved his lips. Then Rimmer turned back to Kryten. "I wanted to see what would happen."

"You being Lister," Kryten said, smiling. He had it now!

"Yes," Rimmer said.

"Well," Kryten said, "would you like some breakfast, sir?"

Now that Kryten knew what to look for, he could see that it took Rimmer intense concentration to make out what Lister was saying before Rimmer said it himself. Kryten hadn't known Rimmer had any language talents at all, but his lipreading skills seemed quite sharply honed.

"What are you making?" Rimmer asked.

"I made smoked salmon for Cat," Kryten said. "What would you like?"

"Could you fry me a couple of eggs?" Rimmer asked.

"I'd be delighted, sir," Kryten said, searching for a frying pan. "A little chili powder for flavor?"

"Kryten bee man, you know what I like," Rimmer said.

Kryten turned. "Excuse me?"

Rimmer had a quizzical frown on his face, and he was looking at Lister. "Bee man? What does that mean?"

Lister sighed. Then he tapped his own chest.

Rimmer's confusion cleared. "Oh! Kryten, me man, you know what I like. Sorry. The B and M look so similar."

Kryten readied the frying pan. "Do you like your yolks runny or solid?"

"Runny," Rimmer said. Then, after a pause, "Nothing much fazes you, does it, Kryten?"

"Only circumstances where I can't be of help, sir," Kryten said. Then he remembered what Lister had said about his voice at the beginning of the conversation. "You…know about your voice?"

"Yeah, Kryten, I know," Rimmer said. "And I know you would've fixed it if there'd been a way."

Kryten nodded in gratitude. "Thank you, Mister David, sir."

"Kryten, don't go all soft or I'll have to throw some of those eggs at you," Rimmer said.

Kryten turned to look at Rimmer, who shrugged, gesturing to Lister. "Don't look at me. He said it."


	10. A Cunning Plan

Rimmer wasn't too surprised that many of his waking hours were now spent as Lister's voice. He had expected as much when he had volunteered to speak for Lister. What surprised Rimmer was how little he minded it. In fact, he and Lister got on famously now that they weren't talking to each other. Rimmer found it peculiar and a little funny that they'd exchanged so many words early on that now meant absolutely nothing.

He found himself growing closer to Lister, too—not in stupid melodramatic ways, but in subtle steps. He had started anticipating Lister's verbal responses weeks ago, and now he was as good at reading Lister's facial expressions as he had been at reading his lips. Actually, he was better at facial expressions—Rimmer had never quite gotten the hang of Bs, Ps, and Ms.

Rimmer looked up as Lister appeared in the doorway to the bunk room. Rimmer was glad of any excuse to stop thinking about the trigonometry problem in front of him.

Lister inclined his head toward the Drive Room. _Kryten wants to see us._

"Does he?" Rimmer said, getting to his feet. "All right."

Lister smiled, shaking his head. _It's strange how you can do that._

"No, it isn't," Rimmer said. "It would be if I were horrible after all this time."

Lister shrugged. _It's only been six months._

"A lot can happen in six months," Rimmer said.

Lister gave Rimmer an incredulous look. _You're telling me?_

Kryten looked excited enough to burst as Rimmer and Lister entered the Drive Room. "I think I may have found an answer to your problem."

"What problem?" Rimmer asked, slipping easily into Lister interpreter mode. These days, Cat and Kryten simply addressed Lister and forgot Rimmer was there.

"Your voice, sir," Kryten said. "I think I've found a way to repair it."

Rimmer frowned. "I thought you said there was too much damage."

"To repair your vocal cords, yes, sir," Kryten said. "But I believe I've come up with a synthetic voice production device that should be able to take the place of your natural voice."

Lister was getting excited; Rimmer didn't have to look at him to know that. "How does it work?"

"First, I fed all the black box recording audio of your voice into the device," Kryten said. "Then, I created a program that told the device how to apply that information to recreate your original vocal sounds. I've got to make absolutely sure of the programming and the connections, but if it functions as it should, you could have a new voice by tomorrow evening."

"I could have a new voice by tomorrow?" Rimmer said, trying hard to capture Lister's enthusiasm vocally.

Kryten nodded, looking pleased and proud. "Yes, sir."

Lister clapped Kryten on the shoulder. "Good job, man. Is there anything I need to do to, erm…"

"Prepare? No," Kryten said. "Just come to the medical bay tomorrow afternoon and I'll hook it up in a jiffy."

"Thanks," Rimmer said.

Lister made a victorious gesture and bounded down the hall. Rimmer opened his mouth to ask Kryten if he was absolutely sure the procedure would work, but then he shook his head and left, following Lister down the corridor.


	11. Being Useful

Lister didn't know if he could wait until tomorrow. After six months of forced silence, being able to speak again would be amazing. _Anyway, I'm sure Rimmer will be glad to be rid of me._

"What do you mean, I'll be glad?" Rimmer asked.

Lister would never understand how Rimmer, a guy so wrapped up in himself, could figure out enough about Lister in six months to practically read his mind.

_Come on, Rimmer. You can't tell me this is fun for you, _Lister thought, making a skeptical face.

"Well, no, not fun exactly," Rimmer admitted.

Lister spread his hands. _Well, then?_

"Useful," Rimmer said.

Lister didn't get it. _What's so great about that?_

"My whole life, Lister, I've never been necessary," Rimmer said. "I was the youngest of four. I was an accident. My parents never even bothered to hide it from me. I never had any talents, never distinguished myself in school. Even when I joined the Space Corps, I never did anything well, and more importantly, I never did anything vital." He paused. "That is, until I repaired the drive plate badly and killed the whole crew. That was vital, and not a small cock-up on my part."

Lister frowned, trying to think of an exception. _You must've done something important for somebody sometime._

"You'd think so, wouldn't you?" Rimmer said. "But I can't think of a single time." He pointed to the floor. "Until now. I have a purpose now. I'm doing something nobody else can do."

Lister nodded, making a gesture of acquiescence. _That's true._

"That's just it," Rimmer said. "I'm not good at anything, but I'm good at this. And tomorrow, none of that will matter, because I'll stop being your voice and go back to being the cowardly git you bunk with."

_You don't have to, _Lister thought, staring pointedly at Rimmer.

"I know," Rimmer said, "but given the kind of person I've been so far, I don't have much confidence in my ability to change."

This was getting ridiculous. _You have changed._

"No, I haven't," Rimmer said, shaking his head.

Lister grabbed a pad and pencil; he needed to knock some sense into Rimmer. **You think when you were brought online you'd have done something like this?**

Rimmer looked at the paper for a minute. "No."

**You couldn't even stand in a room with me for thirty seconds without insulting me or pulling rank. And for the last six months, you've been following me around, talking for me. That doesn't count as change?**

"Not if it isn't permanent," Rimmer said.

Rimmer was being silly. This miraculous surgery hadn't happened yet, and when it did, it might not even work. And yet, Lister didn't like to admit it, but he almost understood how Rimmer felt. **You'll have to decide how you want to be, Rimmer.**

"I know," Rimmer said.

Lister gestured to the doorway, tossing aside the pad and pencil. _Come on; let's go out._

Rimmer looked at Lister warily. "You're not going to make me sing karaoke for you again, are you?"

Lister grinned.

"Lister, you know I can't carry a tune," Rimmer said, crossing his arms. "You just like to see me humiliated, don't you?"

Lister nodded. _You bet._

Rimmer sighed as he got to his feet. "Fine." He pointed at Lister. "But I'm warning you, if you try to make me sing 'Dancing Queen' again, I'm leaving."

Lister wasn't planning on asking Rimmer to sing "Dancing Queen", not when there was a whole ABBA songbook to choose from.


	12. Aftermath

Rimmer tried to busy himself the whole next day so he wouldn't be thinking about Lister's surgery.

Kryten came bustling into the bunk room at 7 PM. "Mister Rimmer, I need your help in the medical bay."

Rimmer nearly jumped to his feet. "Is Lister all right?"

"I don't know," Kryten said. "I performed the surgery, but now he won't even open his mouth. I can't tell if there's anything wrong, and I thought maybe you could help."

_"You could help."_ Surely those words had never been spoken about Rimmer before.

Rimmer nodded. "Where is he?"

Once Rimmer entered the medical bay, Lister seemed to relax. He inclined his head toward Kryten.

"Kryten, could you leave the two of us for a minute?" Rimmer asked.

Kryten nodded. "Yes, sir. I'll be just outside."

Once Kryten was gone, Lister smiled.

"Hi, Rimmer," he said.

Rimmer was dumbfounded. "The procedure worked."

Lister nodded.

"I thought you'd been hurt," Rimmer said. "I mean, Kryten thought—why did you send for me?"

"Because," Lister said, "I wanted you to be the person I said my first words to."

"Oh," Rimmer said. He couldn't be sure, having had little experience along these lines, but he suspected Lister had just made a gesture of friendship.

Lister glanced at the ceiling innocently. _Guess you can't read my mind anymore._

"You guess wrong," Rimmer said. Now was as good a time to test Lister's attitude towards him as any. "You'll have to do more than get a new voice to be rid of me, Lister."

Lister grinned broadly. "Whatever you say, Rimmer. Whatever you say."

THE END


End file.
